


Practical

by TheWalkingGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, One Shot, hella short, may end up being incorporated into my larger fic we'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingGrimes/pseuds/TheWalkingGrimes
Summary: Typically, Carl doesn't ascribe any sentimentality to his weapons.





	Practical

Carl enters the rectory, determination fueling his actions now that he has something to do. Self-appointed though it may be, a task is a task, and it’s a welcome distraction from the worry over Carol and Beth, and his father who’s off to rescue them.

As he spreads out their small arsenal of weapons, something catches his attention in his peripheral vision. In the assortment of melee weapons (varying from leftovers from the prison, new acquisitions from being on the road, and prizes stolen from vanquished enemies), one in particular stands out to him: a large, nine-inch hunting knife with a handsome mahogany handle and a matching leather sheath. 

Carl reaches for it. The handle is weighty in his grip, but surprisingly soft. He can already tell that it’s much higher quality than the smaller hunting knife he used to carry. The knife that Maggie had used to slice his mother’s abdomen open. He’d lost it to a walker back at the prison, accidentally burying the knife too deep in its skull and not having time to retrieve it. 

Surprisingly, the only regret he feels at losing that knife is over wasting a perfectly good weapon. He never felt any sentimental attachment to it, good or bad. The same was true for his Beretta. It had been the gun he’d used from the start, the gun he’d put Shane’s corpse down with, the one he’d used to end his mother’s suffering. Yet, just as with the knife, the remorse is a practical one. Honestly, he’s even forgotten a couple of times that the Beretta he carries now isn’t the same one he’s been carrying for years: it’s the same make and model, identical for all intents and purposes.

He thinks about this as he unsheathes the knife. The blade is clean, obviously wiped down shortly after it’s last use to preserve it’s sharpness (his father is meticulous about that). Carl runs his finger near the edge of the blade, not getting close enough to cut himself. It’s razor sharp, in good condition.

Joe obviously took good care of it.

In his mind’s eye, Carl envisions what the knife looked like before it was cleaned: soaked in bright red arterial blood, sticky with it like a popsicle in the heat of the summer. 

Carefully, he pricks his finger on the point of it. Even with applying almost no pressure, a tiny droplet of blood instantly wells up, the sting almost imperceptible. He’s not really surprised - he’s seen this thing part flesh like butter.

Carl re-sheaths the knife, making to put it back. Hesitates.

He needs a new knife anyway. And it needs to be bigger than his old one, so he doesn’t lose it to a walker skull again. _It’s only practical_ , he tells himself, slipping the sheath underneath his belt. 

The blade presses against his leg, it’s presence heavy and demanding to be felt. Carl brushes his fingers over the handle. Imagines driving it into a fat gut, pulling up, covering himself in blood, twisting it, driving it in deeper, again and again and again…

Carl smiles grimly.

Okay, maybe it isn’t just about being practical.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a snippet of some panel with Chandler where he says that the knife he's had since Season 5 was from the Claimers and I was like "wait woah, WHAT IF IT'S THE SAME KNIFE" and I cross-referenced images and yup. Yes it is. What a brilliant, overlooked detail on the costume designers' part. 
> 
> I may end up recycling bits of this into my larger work, once I get up to this point.


End file.
